


forty milliliters

by spikettes



Series: measures!verse [2]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: F/F, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikettes/pseuds/spikettes
Summary: It only takes forty milliliters of alcohol for Eva to think she’s in love.





	forty milliliters

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, this fic is a prequel to my other fic, [Ten Meters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943026/chapters/34623179), and takes place about three years (and some change) before that one. However! Both fics were written to be stand-alones- so if you’re only interested in reading this one you’ll be fine. 
> 
> Second, my original goal was to publish this during Pride month, but life and all that bullshit got in the way so here we are in September. I’m sure we can all just pretend it’s Pride month, anyway, right? :D?
> 
> Last I would like to thank my most best beta [Nina](http://oberynsand.tumblr.com/), without whom not only would this fic suck but also I’d probably, like, be sad, or something.
> 
> (Oh, one more thing- you can find the tumblr post for this fic [here](http://spikettes.tumblr.com/tagged/*fortyml), and my soundtrack for it [here!](http://spikettes.tumblr.com/tagged/*fortymlost))

_“How long have they been dating, anyway?” Even asks him, bending down to look at a picture of Eva and Vilde thumbtacked to her wall._  
  
_“I think about three years,” Isak says, wandering back out into the hall. Even follows him slowly, still examining the pictures Eva has pinned up as a makeshift collage._  
  
_“Do you know how they met?”_  
_  
“Yeah,” Isak smiles, turning back to face him. “I was there.”_

 

* * *

 

“Are you here?”

Eva pushes her way through the club, plugging a finger into her ear to block out the noise as she answers her phone. She’s been to Fløyel more times than she can count, but this is the first time she’s ever seen it so crowded. Batting away a rainbow flag that falls against her hair, she squeezes her way into the bathroom, the noise from outside fading.

“Sorry, I’m almost there,” Noora says, out of breath. “I got caught in a condom shower.”

“Unused, I hope.” Eva smiles and leans against the wall next to one of the mirrors. There’s a tiny note drawn in sharpie on the tile by her elbow, telling her to _protect drunk girls!_

“It felt like the god of sex was blessing me.”

_“I bequeath you, Noora Amalie Sætre, with the power of latex.”_

Noora is laughing in her ear when she hears a hiccuping sob from one of the stalls, followed by the click of a metal latch unlocking. Eva bites her lip and slides into the corner, out of sight from the other end of the bathroom.

“Velour?” Noora is asking, her voice drifting like she’s holding her phone away from her mouth.

“Fløyel,” Eva answers, distracted by another, louder sob. She inches towards the edge of the wall and peeks around the corner, trying not to draw attention to herself. There’s a girl standing by the sink, running her fingers under her eyes to fix her smudged eyeliner.

“...and there’s a whole group of people in leather harnesses, am I close?”

“Sorry, Noora,” Eva whispers, ducking back around the corner, “I think I have to go.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, it’s fine, there’s just, uh-” Eva looks down and sees the scrawl of graffiti again, insisting to her that she _protect drunk girls!_ “You can find it, right?”

“Yeah, I can see it now.”

“Okay, good,” Eva says, then hangs up. She can hear the girl take a shuddering breath, the noise echoing against the tiled walls. Eva slides out from around the corner, approaching her like she’s a wild deer who might get spooked at the first sudden move.

“Are you okay?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. The girl looks up in surprise and catches Eva’s eye through the reflection of the mirror, pasting on a smile. There are tiny silver stars spread along her cheekbones that sparkle as her face moves.

“Uh-huh!” she says, her chin wobbling. A moment later, she bursts into tears. “Sorry,” she says, hiding her face in her hands.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eva says, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to get anyone for you?”

The girl shakes her head, sniffling.

“You’re here by yourself?”

“I lost Chris.”

“You lost Chris,” Eva repeats, hesitating. “Where, um- where did you last see him?”

“Her.”

“Her,” Eva corrects.

“We were outside,” she says, finally emerging from her hands to look up at Eva. She has huge, light gray eyes that shine in the dim bathroom lights. “And she said she would meet me here, but it’s been a half an hour and she won’t answer her phone and-”

“Okay, okay,” Eva stops her, squeezing her shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me, and you can hang out with us until we find her.”

The girl doesn’t respond, just blinks at her through the mirror as she takes a deep, steadying breath.

“It’s Pride!” Eva smiles, shaking her gently. “You should be having fun!”

The girl’s lip wobbles again as she looks down into the sink.

“We don’t bite, I promise.”

“You won’t leave?” she asks. Eva feels a rush of protectiveness when the girl turns and meets her eyes, looking hopeful.

“I’ll stay as long as you need.” Eva smiles in a way that she hopes looks reassuring, holding back the thought that she might actually be the worst person for this job.

“Okay,” she responds in a small voice, nodding and flattening down her skirt.

“Okay,” Eva agrees, turning and heading out of the bathroom. The moment the wall of noise from the club hits them, Eva instinctively reaches back and feels a cold hand grab hers.

She leads the way through the crowd, tightening her grip when she feels the girl struggling to break through behind her.

“We’re at the bar!” Eva yells. “All the tables were full already!” She feels fingers thread their way through hers as a silent confirmation. “There they are!”

At the bar, Isak and Eskild are in the same place she left them, arguing over who should pay for their next round of shots. Eva is relieved to see that Noora found them, now sitting on the stool next to Eskild and fixing the blurred stripes drawn across his cheek.

“Guys, this is our new friend,” Eva announces, pulling the girl forward until she stands before them all, tugging at the bottom of her skirt. “Uh-”

“Vilde,” she says, beaming and straightening out her posture. The switch from the nervous, sobbing girl in the bathroom into a bright, confident person is instantaneous, and Eva stares at her in surprise. After a beat, Noora clears her throat and leans forward, her hand outstretched.

“I’m Noora,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Eva as she shakes Vilde’s hand.

“Oh, sorry,” Eva says, mentally shaking herself. “This is Eskild,” Eskild gives Vilde a wave hello, scrutinizing Noora’s work through his phone camera, “and Isak,” Isak smiles at Vilde, then throws Eva a look that clearly asks the question: _what the fuck?_

Eva ignores him, leaving the empty stool on his left open and instead sandwiching herself between the boys to lean up against the bar. Eskild slides over the half empty cocktail she’d given him to look after, and Eva is almost impressed he didn’t drink any of it.

“Vilde lost her friend, so we’re going to help her out,” she says as Vilde takes the seat on Isak’s other side.

Eskild tsks, rolling his eyes as he throws his phone onto the bar. With surprising grace for someone who Eva knows has already had two very large, colorful cocktails, he hoists himself up until he’s kneeling on his bar stool.

“What’s your friend’s name?” he calls to Vilde.

Vilde smiles in confusion, glancing at Eva before she answers. “Um, Chris?”

Eskild clears his throat and cups his hands around his mouth.

“ _Chris!”_ he shouts over the noise of the club, “ _we have your cute little blonde friend, please come and collect her!”_

A handful of people turn and give him dirty looks, while the rest of the club either doesn’t hear him or chooses to ignore him.

“It was a nice try,” Noora says, smiling and waving at a girl who continues to glare at them. When Eva glances over at Vilde, she looks like she’s seconds away from crying again.

“Hey, I’m sure she’s fine,” Eva says, “she probably just got caught up with… something.”

“Did you try texting her?” Noora asks, leaning forward against the bar to look at Vilde.

Vilde holds up her phone, the screen full of texts that have been left unread.

“Lover’s quarrel?” Eskild asks.

Vilde looks down at her knees as she shakes her head.

“Eskild,” Noora hisses, smacking his thigh under the bar. “You can’t just _assume-”_

“Uh, hello? It’s fucking Pride!”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Isak mutters, squinting down at his phone as he types.

“Well, we’ll just ask then,” Eskild rolls his eyes, unbothered, and looks over their heads at Vilde. “You gay, honey?”

“Eskild!”

Vilde blinks up at Eskild, then very slowly starts to nod.

“See? It’s fine!” Eskild says, sinking back down onto his chair.

“I came out yesterday,” Vilde says, barely audible over the music.

“Sorry, _what?”_ Isak asks, choking on his sip of beer and pounding a fist against his chest.

“You came out _yesterday?”_ Eva repeats, leaning forward to see Vilde’s expression.

“Um, yes?”

“Oh my god, you’re a baby!” Eskild shouts, jumping from his stool to wrap Vilde in a hug. She laughs, her hair falling in her face, and the sight releases tension from Eva’s body she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Does this mean I’m free, now?” Isak whispers in Eva’s ear. She snorts, hiding her face in her folded arms on the countertop.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Eva says when she emerges, patting his knee.

“So it’s your first Pride?” Eskild asks Vilde, combing his fingers through her hair like she’s his brand new doll. “It’s Isak’s, too! You guys can be buddies!”

Eva turns to Isak, smirking, to watch his expression shift to one of absolute terror.

“I’m just here to get laid, Eskild,” he says. Eskild throws him a disappointed look before he gives up on a half finished braid in Vilde’s hair.

“You need a drink!” he declares, waving the bartender over. “Five shots!”

“Four shots,” Noora corrects, raising her eyebrows.

“Four shots,” Eskild repeats with a sigh, “and a drink for our baby!”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” the bartender says, rolling his eyes. He’s already had to deal with two extravagant drink requests from Eskild, and Eva is a little surprised he’s still willing to serve them.

“I like red wine?” Vilde says. Behind her, Eskild looks ready to bury himself alive.

“Make her a Jasmine,” Eva suggests before Eskild says something that gets them all kicked out. The bartender gives her a look like he’s impressed in spite of himself.

“I don’t know that one,” he admits, sliding four shots in front of them. “What’s in it?”

“Gin, Campari, lemon juice, Cointreau,” Eva replies. “Shaken.” When she turns to pass out their shots, everyone is staring at her.

“What?”

“How do you _know that?”_ Eskild asks, gaping at her.

Eva shrugs, downing her shot. Isak and Eskild follow suit, but Vilde leaves hers untouched, biting her lip and scanning the club.

“We’ll find her, I promise,” Eva says. “But you might as well try to enjoy yourself, too, right?”

The bartender returns, sliding a drink across the bar to Vilde.

“It’s pink,” she says in surprise, smiling.

Eva smiles back, then feels the alcohol hit her all at once.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, what about him?”

Twenty minutes later, and Eskild is holding his own Jasmine cocktail, swirling it while he scans the club and acts as Isak’s wingman. Eva watches as Isak looks across the crowd to where Eskild is pointing, squinting in consideration.

“Not my type,” Isak replies, shaking his head. “I don’t like blondes.”

“But look how _tall_ he is!”

“Next.”

“Ugh, you’re so picky,” Eskild complains, pursing his lips. It’s the same banter Eva hears pretty much every night they go out, and she gave up a long time ago on telling Eskild that once Isak has made up his mind about something, there’s no use trying to change it. She tunes them out and instead turns to her right, where Noora seems to be building some kind of missing person’s profile for Vilde’s friend.

“...okay, before you said she’s one sixty five centimeters, but now you say she’s one sixty two. I need it to be accurate, Vilde.”

“Um,” Vilde says, swinging her legs against her bar stool. By her elbow, the cocktail Eva ordered is mostly empty. “Maybe one sixty three?”

Noora rolls her eyes and writes the number down onto a napkin, underneath all the other information she spent the last ten minutes grilling Vilde on. Vilde catches Eva’s eye as she looks up from Noora’s list, and they both burst out in giggles while Noora scowls at them.

“You’ll both feel really awful if something’s happened to her,” she says, folding her arms. “And _you_ need to stop ordering all these drinks!” Noora glares at Eva, appalled, when the bartender passes her a glass. “How are you paying for all of these?”

Eva cringes. “Uh.”

“Really, Eva,” Noora says, shaking her head. “You need to take things seriously.”

“I _tried_ , Noora, but it was _so boring,”_ Eva whines, slouching against the bar. “They kept asking me to do all these calculations but I had no idea how, and there would be like three phone lines ringing at the same time!”

“Oh, you’re a receptionist?” Vilde asks, perking up as she looks over at Eva. “I work at Frankremme!”

“Well-”

“She _was,”_ Noora says, sighing.

“I wasn’t very good at it,” Eva admits, looking down at her cocktail. She feels a little guilty about drinking it, now.

“You just need to find something you like more!” Vilde says. Her tone is cheerful, but when Eva catches her eye, Vilde seems to be studying her. “What are you good at?”

“Drinking,” Noora and Isak both answer as Isak turns to join their conversation.

“Sleeping,” Eskild supplies, grabbing Eva’s drink from her and taking a sip.

“Watching trash tv,” Isak says, smirking.

“You watch that _with me-”_

“Oh, do you watch Paradise Hotel?” Vilde interrupts, straightening up in her chair.

“Yes!” Eva smiles at her, relieved that someone, for once, isn’t judging her for it.

“Well, that backfired,” Isak mutters. On the bar, Vilde’s phone pings, the sound going off once, then two more times in quick succession. Vilde shrieks and lurches forward to grab it, startling a few people sitting near them.

“It’s Chris!” she shouts, bouncing in her seat. Eva jumps up from her chair and swings around Noora to read over her shoulder.

_heyy girl!! m ok!!!_

_sry dsidnt txt snr_

The last text is a string of inexplicable emojis- a microphone, lipstick, a rainbow, a lock and key, a stoplight, and two different types of rulers.

“Uh,” Eva says, squinting down at Vilde’s phone. As she does, another text comes in, so fast the gray typing bubble doesn’t even appear.

_meeeet meeeeee bbe!!!_

“She’s wasted,” Isak says, laughing, when Vilde passes her phone down to him and Eskild. “Just call her.”

Vilde hits a few buttons after he slides it back, holding the phone up to her face and cupping her ear to block out the noise. Her eyebrows furrow after a few seconds go by.

“No answer,” she mumbles, looking down at the screen.

“Try texting,” Noora says.

Vilde bites her lip, worry blooming across her face as she types out a message and sends it. They all wait in silence, watching Vilde’s phone until the text message turns from blue to green.

“Um, what does that mean?” Noora asks, poking at Vilde’s screen.

“Her phone is off,” Eva says, sighing. “She probably ran out of battery.”

_“C’est la vie,”_ Eskild says, waving a dismissive hand, “you’re better off with us anyway, babe.”

“Well, hold on.” Noora holds Vilde’s phone up close, narrowing her eyes down at her texts. “She asked you to meet her, are these supposed to be directions?” She points to the string of emojis, tapping the screen impatiently when the backlight goes out.

“Maybe?” Vilde bites her lip, looking across the bar at them all like she’s at a loss.

“No, we can figure this out,” Noora says, flipping over her Missing Person napkin and opening her pen with a determined click. “We just need to think about it.”

 

* * *

 

“I still think it means karaoke,” Isak says, tilting Vilde’s phone to the side and squinting down at her texts.

“But where is there karaoke near here?” Noora asks, snatching the phone from his hand. “Besides, that doesn’t explains the rest of these.”

“Karaoke…” Isak ticks off a finger, squinting in thought, “look… gay…”

“No, no, no,” Eskild says, leaning against Isak’s back and covering his mouth with his hand. “It’s obvious, she’s at a BDSM club.”

_“What?”_

“Yeah!” Eskild says, fighting against Isak squirming under his arms. “Like _safe word?_ Stop?”

“And the rulers?”

Eskild tits his head, thinking, and Isak takes advantage of his momentary distraction to slide away.

“Sadism,” Eskild finally announces after a moment. Noora throws Eva an exasperated look.

“Could be,” Eva says, shrugging. On her right, Vilde is deep in conversation with the bartender, and Eva can’t help but glance over. She watches as the bartender gestures to the wall of alcohol behind him, and Vilde nods, turning and catching her eye. She smiles, easy and comfortable like they’re old friends, and it takes Eva a moment before she thinks to smile back.

“Your friends are nice!” Vilde yells over the music, leaning close to her ear.

“Are they?” Eva asks, glancing to where Eskild is trying to forcibly remove the pen from Noora’s hand.

“Yeah!” Vilde’s arm brushes against hers, shifting closer until their shoulders touch. “You all take care of each other!”

Eva pauses, Vilde’s words changing meaning as she processes them.

“Your friends don’t?” she asks, her knuckles brushing up against the back of Vilde’s hand.

“Oh, no, Chris is super nice!” Vilde replies. Eva wants to ask _what about your other friends?,_ but before she can a flyer is being thrust in front of their faces.

“We found it!” Eskild screams, bouncing up and down behind their chairs. Eva squints down at the paper. It’s for an event at a club called Code Red, some kind of show with a list of musical guests. “Come _on,_ let’s go!”

Eva glances over at Vilde, uncertain, but sees that she’s already off her chair and throwing on her coat. Isak and Noora are both waiting at the door, Noora waving for them to hurry up.

“I got your tab!” Noora shouts. “You’ll pay me back!”

Eva swears and grabs her drink, chugging down the last of it while she flaps her hand at them. She slams the glass down once it’s empty, seeing Vilde out of the corner of eye jump and take something from the other side of the bar.

“Eva, come on!” Vilde shouts, sliding off the countertop and racing past her towards the door. Eva yelps and follows her, stumbling a little when she jumps off her chair and everything tilts to the left.

“What did you take?” Eva calls out to Vilde once they get outside. Vilde is a little way ahead of her, a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

“A job application!” Vilde replies, beaming. She spins to look at Eva, her jog turning into a backwards skip with her skirt fluttering around her legs.

“A _job application?”_

“It’s for you!” Vilde says, waving the paper through the air like a streamer. “I thought you might have fun working there.”

“At Fløyel?”

“Yeah!” Vilde’s smile falters. “Or not?”

“As a bartender?” Eva asks, trying to wrap her head around the idea. Working behind the bar, spending the night mixing drinks and chatting with people. It doesn’t really seem like a job at all.

“Sorry,” Vilde says, slowing to match her pace, “I didn’t mean to be pushy, I just thought-”

“It’s an awesome idea,” Eva interrupts, smiling. Vilde smiles back, her face lighting up again just as the neon sign for Code Red comes into view, illuminating everything around them.

“Hurry up!” Isak yells from down the street. Vilde grabs Eva’s hand and pulls her forward, her hair flying behind her as she runs. Her skin is warm, and Eva thinks back to when they’d first left the bathroom, and Vilde’s fingers had felt cold against hers. She takes it as a sign that Vilde’s fear has left her, the chill in her body expelled somewhere into the night behind them.

 

* * *

 

“Holy _shit,”_ Isak shouts, holding his beer above his head. In the fifteen minutes it took them to get drinks, the number of people in the club seems to have doubled. “I can’t even fucking move!”

“Are we going to be able to find her in this?” Noora yells, jumping and trying to scan the crowd.

“She’s wearing orange!” Vilde calls up to her, clutching onto Eva’s arm so they don’t get separated. “Bright orange, and a silver snapback!”

Eskild makes a face like he’s uncertain about Chris’ fashion choices.

“Does anyone have a pen?” Vilde shouts to the group. Eva shrugs apologetically, while on their right a pen appears, passed over from somewhere in the depths of the crowd. “Oh, thank you!”

A disembodied _yeah!_ floats back to them.

“Okay,” Vilde says, pressing her drink into Eva’s empty hand. She pulls at Eva with the hand on her arm, guiding her until her back is to Vilde. There’s a moment where Eva wonders what the hell is going on, before she feels a piece of paper being spread out across her back, Vilde’s touch soft along her shoulder blades. “Name?”

“Eva Kviig Mohn,” Eva calls back, feeling the gentle press of a pen scrawling along the top of her spine.

“Address, phone number, email,” Vilde lists off, filling the job application off as Eva instructs, her fingers moving lower as she progresses.

“Experience,” Vilde reads, her breath hot against the back of Eva’s neck.

“None, I guess,” Eva says, holding back a shrug. There’s a moment of silence where Eva thinks maybe Vilde is giving up, but then the pressure is back, the press of the pen confident on the middle of her back.

“Knowledge in popular liqueurs and alcohol brands. Ability to mix cocktails without instruction or direction.”

There’s a pause, and Vilde shifts the paper up higher, the top of the page brushing against Eva’s hair.

“Excellent people skills.” Eva can hear the smile in her voice, and she badly wants to turn to see Vilde’s expression. Never in her life would she think filling out a _job application_ could be interesting, but Vilde seems to make everything she does colorful.

“References,” Vilde reads. She doesn’t wait for Eva to respond, just fills the section out with a quick, sure hand.

“Thank you,” Eva calls back to her as the paper is lifted away. “Seriously.”

“You’re welcome!” Vilde chirps, appearing on her left with the paper neatly folded in half. Eva watches her tuck it away into her bag, careful to keep the page neat and smooth. She looks much happier than she had at Fløyel, and Eva wonders if maybe it doesn’t have as much to do with Chris as it does with finding a distraction from everything going on around her.

“Why yesterday?” Eva asks.

“Huh?”

“Why’d you decide to come out yesterday?”

“Oh,” Vilde says, her smile fading. “I didn’t really have choice, I guess.”

Vilde brings a hand up to grab her elbow, looking out over the crowd. She doesn’t volunteer any more information, and Eva doesn’t want her to. The thought of someone as kind and sincere as Vilde being forced into a decision makes Eva feel a little sick, but it doesn’t really surprise her.

“That was brave of you,” Eva says.

“I didn’t really want to come today,” Vilde admits, blinking and looking towards the ceiling. “Chris thought it’d be good for me.”

“You can go home, if you really want,” Eva says, “I’ll take you.”

“No,” Vilde replies, letting out a long exhale, “I think I want to stay.”

She dabs a finger along the corners of her eyes, and then looks back up at Eva with the same bright, confident smile she’d given when she’d left the bathroom.

“I’m not done having fun yet,” she says.

Eva almost tells her right there, watching her melt into the crowd, that she thinks she’s amazing.

 

* * *

 

_“Sana?”_

When Eva and Vilde reach the rest of the group, Isak is gaping at a girl standing on the seat to one of the club’s leather booths. She’s dressed head to toe in black and jumping to try and see over the crowd, the cushion squeaking under her every time she lands.

_“Isak?”_ She looks down in surprise, her eyes narrowing.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Mykki Blanco is playing!” she shouts, standing on her toes and checking the empty stage at the front of the club. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Uh, _I’m gay?”_

“Oh, right,” she says, distracted, as one of the bouncers shouts and gestures for her to get down. “I’m short, what am I supposed to do!?” she yells at him over the crowd. He makes a motion that is clearly meant to mean _tough luck._

“Isak, let me sit on your shoulders,” she demands, hopping down from the booth.

“No!” he replies, looking appalled.

“You know each other?” Eva asks, watching Sana size up the rest of their group critically.

“We have Health together,” Isak says. “Sana is very, uh-”

_“Can you move?”_ Sana shouts at no one in particular, trying to push her way to the front of the crowd.

“Passionate.”

“Sana, did you happen to see a girl,” Noora asks, “brown hair, silver snapback-”

“Ugly orange jacket?” Eskild interrupts, tilting his head innocently.

“Uh, no?” Sana answers, throwing them a confused look just as the lights dim. “Help me get to the front!” she yells as the crowd starts to cheer, grabbing Isak by the back of his shirt and pushing him forward like a human shield.

Isak glances back and gives a helpless shrug as the sea of people swallows them whole.

“Did Isak just get kidnapped?” Eva asks, looking to the rest of the group in confusion. Noora seems just as baffled as she is, while Eskild is turned away from them, smiling at a guy wearing a cropped shirt.

“Let’s go!” Vilde shouts next to her, standing on her toes to look over the crowd. “I want to see!”

She takes Eva by the hand, pulling her in the same direction that Isak and Sana went. The bass from the music hits Eva like a punch in the chest as she ducks her way past people, the crowd tightening around them.

A man in front of her turns as Vilde passes, his eyes finding where the edge of Vilde’s skirt hits her thighs. Eva watches in disbelief as he reaches forward and grabs at her, Vilde’s hands immediately going to hold the bottom of her skirt as she shrieks and spins away.

Eva doesn’t consider herself an aggressive person by nature, but in that moment all she wants to do is hit him as hard as she possibly can.

“Hey!” she shouts, stepping forward. Before she gets any further a fist flies through the air, hitting the guy square against the side of his face.

_“Asshole!”_ Sana yells, waving her hand like the punch hurt her fingers. Eva takes a step back from where he hunches over, holding a hand over his eye.

“What the _hell?”_ he yells, turning and glaring at Sana. She raises her eyebrows at him, unflinching, as Isak pushes through the crowd to grab her by the shoulder.

“You’re fucking crazy!” the guy yells at Sana, lurching forward to retaliate. Someone behind him grabs him by the back of his shirt and the swing of his fist misses Sana, shifting upwards and instead striking Isak’s nose. Isak swears, reeling back but holding tight to Sana’s shoulder as she tries to jump forward, shouting every insult she seems to know.

“Holy shit,” Eva whispers, glancing sideways to see Vilde standing beside her, watching with wide eyes.

“You!” comes a voice from somewhere in the crowd, ringing above the noise of the music. The bouncer from earlier points at Sana, shoving people aside as he makes his way over to them.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit,”_ Eva says, looking back over to where Sana is still screaming at the stranger, with nothing but Isak’s hand on her arm stopping her from throwing herself at him.

_“Run!”_ Vilde screams. Eva feels Vilde grab her by the wrist and pull her forward, pushing directly past the guy who grabbed her and towards the doors. Eva glances back and sees Isak and Sana following them, Sana throwing a middle finger over her shoulder as she runs.

Eva passes by Noora at the bar, slapping her on the arm and shouting _“we’re leaving!”_ as she runs by.

“Eva, wait!” Noora calls, but Vilde is still pulling her forward, away from Noora and out the door.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eva asks Vilde once they’re outside, reclaiming her hand and fanning herself as she tries to catch her breath. Vilde turns to face her, cheeks pink and a grin spreading across her face.

“You just kept saying _holy shit,”_ Vilde says, breaking into breathless giggles. Amusement bubbles up in Eva’s throat, and soon they’re both standing there, doubled over in laughter. The doors to the club open and Sana and Isak come flying out, the bouncer’s voice shouting out after them.

“What are you _doing?”_ Sana yells as she jogs past them. “Come on, before that asshole follows us!”

Vilde screams and jumps to follow her, tripping and reaching out to cling onto Eva’s arm, which just makes Eva snort and start laughing again as she pulls Vilde up. They sprint down the street, finally catching up to Sana and Isak at a tram stop just as one is about to start pulling away.

The doors barely miss the back of Eva’s shoes as they pile in, and she clutches onto one of the poles for support. Her momentum carries her forward, swinging all her the way around, and she screams as she slides and falls into an empty seat. She looks up just in time to see Vilde stumble as the tram lurches forward, shrieking and falling into Eva’s lap. The wind is knocked from Eva’s lungs for a moment, but when she finds her breath again she dissolves into a fit of giggles against Vilde’s back. She can feel Vilde laughing with her, her whole body shaking, and it just makes Eva laugh harder.

“Christ, I feel sick,” Eva says, still smiling as she leans forward, shifting Vilde’s weight and resting her forehead against the chair in front of her. Vilde sways and falls off her lap and onto the floor, which gets them both laughing all over again. Eva dips down to extend a hand to Vilde, regretting it when her stomach gives a sickening flip.

“Isak, your nose is bleeding,” Sana says from behind her. Eva turns her head to look back and sees Isak holding the back of his hand up to his nose, a tiny blotch of red visible against his skin. For some reason she finds the sight hilarious, and she snorts and slides forward off her chair, landing next to Vilde on the floor.

“Do you two need help?” Isak asks, his tone scathing as he wipes his hand against his pants.

“We’re good,” Vilde replies, breathless, as she shifts to sit with her back against the seat to one of the chairs. Eva gives up on trying to sit at all, waves of nausea still hitting her as she sprawls out to lie down in the middle of the aisle.

“It’s like a boat,” she says, feeling the tram vibrating under her body.

“Where’s Eskild?” Isak asks from somewhere above her. “And Noora?”

“Man overboard,” Eva mutters, and hears Vilde whisper _“oops”_ before she’s giggling again, holding onto her cheeks like they’re starting to hurt.

“What did they _drink?”_ Eva hears Sana ask.

“Some pink shit,” Isak says. Eva tilts her head back to watch him, upside down, as he takes his phone out of his pocket. “Hi, Noora? Where are you?”

Eva smiles and tilts her head further back, watching Isak and Sana hang from the ceiling of the tram.

“They’re still at the club,” Isak says, holding the phone away from his mouth. “Noora says Eskild hooked up with some guy but she doesn’t want to leave him by himself.”

Eva catches Isak’s eye as she imagines the scene: Noora, sitting alone on a bar stool, glaring at Eskild as he makes out with a stranger. They smirk at each other, Eva only looking away when the tram makes a sharp turn and she rolls into Vilde’s legs.

She groans, closing her eyes when the tram doesn’t stop spinning around her.

“Uh, guys?” Vilde says, pulling at Eva’s shoulder until she flips over, lying with her head half in Vilde’s lap. “I think Eva’s gonna be sick.”

Eva swallows and nods, afraid of what might happen if she opens her mouth.

“Everybody off!” Sana says.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry,” Eva says, crouching to sit with her back to the wall. She realizes, only now that it’s too late, that maybe rolling around on the floor of a moving tram wasn’t the best idea.

“Happens to everyone,” Vilde says, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. Sana walks over and leans next to them, throwing Vilde a skeptical look.

“How come _you’re_ fine,” Eva mutters, slouching into Vilde’s side. Her body is warm and soft, and Eva wants to pull Vilde around her and make her stay forever.

“You had more to drink than she did,” Isak says, rolling his eyes. “A lot more.”

“But _you’re_ the drunk girl,” Eva mutters, wiping her nose on Vilde’s sleeve. “I’m protecting _you.”_

“You are protecting me,” Vilde says. Her tone is sincere, even as Eva leans sweaty and disgusting against her, and Eva knows this is why she loves her.

“Not _in_ love,” Eva says to herself, leaning further into Vilde’s side.

“Huh?” Vilde asks, brushing a chunk of hair away from where it’s sticking to Eva’s forehead. Eva turns her head towards the touch, sad when it doesn’t return.

“Here, make her drink this,” Isak says, bending down to pass Vilde a bottle of water. Vilde opens it and slides it into Eva’s hand, and Eva pouts down at it, upset that Vilde didn’t hold it for her.

“Poor Eva,” Vilde murmurs, rubbing Eva’s arm. Eva nods, taking a couple sips of water before she curls onto her side and rests her head on Vilde’s collarbone. Isak catches her eye, a disapproving set to his eyebrows as he looks down at her.

“Well, this has been fun,” Sana says, kicking away from the wall. “But I’m getting out of here.” She throws them both a weird look as she turns and starts making her way down the street.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Isak calls.

“I can’t go back to the club, can I?” Sana asks, spinning back around to face them. “He said we weren’t allowed back in.”

“Let us walk you home, at least,” Isak says, moving to follow her. Sana holds up a hand to stop him.

“No offense,” Sana replies, “but you’re all wasted.”

“I’m not even drunk!” Isak protests. Sana folds her arms and looks him up and down in consideration.

“Eight times nine?”

“Seventy-two.”

“Capital of Norway?”

“Oslo.”

“Homeostasis?”

“Organisms auto-regulate to reach equilibrium.”

“It’d be sad if you didn’t know that one,” Sana says, turning on her heel and walking away. Isak makes a face at her, then glances down at them, confused.

“Are we supposed to follow her?” he asks.

“If you want!” Sana calls over her shoulder. Isak scrambles to catch up to her, leaving Eva and Vilde sitting against the wall behind him.

“Eva?” Vilde asks, combing her fingers through Eva’s hair. The feeling is soothing, and Eva wants to give up on the rest of the night and just fall asleep right there. “We gotta go, come on.”

“Okay,” Eva says, letting Vilde grab her arm and pull her up from the ground.

“Drink more water,” Vilde instructs her, keeping an arm around Eva’s waist while Eva does as she’s told. She takes tiny sips, then rolls the bottle against the side of her neck, the cold against her skin making her feel alert again.

“Better?” Vilde asks, tilting her head.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Vilde squeezes her hip before she draws away, skipping down the road after Isak and Sana. Eva follows her, wondering if maybe Vilde is just this way with everyone. Maybe everyone who meets Vilde feels swept away in her, like they’re caught in a warm summer rain.

“Eva,” Isak calls, jerking his head for her to walk next to him. Eva quickens her pace, falling into step beside him.

“Having a good Pride?” she asks, nudging him in the ribs. Isak rolls his eyes.

“I’m having an interesting Pride,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m kind of worried about you, though.”

“I feel fine, now, seriously-”

“Not that,” Isak says. “I meant with Vilde.”

“It’ll be fine,” Eva replies, unconcerned. “If we can’t find Chris I’ll just stay with her, and then we’ll-”

“You don’t think you’re getting too attached?”

Eva’s step falters.

“What do you mean attached?”

“I mean whenever we go out you get wasted, meet someone, then five minutes later you’re in love-”

“I’m not _wasted,”_ Eva protests, stumbling and falling into his arm. Isak raises his eyebrows. “Besides, when did I say anything about liking her-”

Isak snorts and shakes his head. Eva glares at him and concentrates very hard on walking in a steady, straight line.

“You’re just careless with yourself, sometimes.” Isak sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Nothing, forget it,” Isak says, picking up his pace to catch up to Sana. Eva narrows her eyes at his back, hoping he can feel her glaring at him.

She isn’t careless. She’s care _ful._ She’s cautious, and safe, and observant-

“Fuck,” she says, her forehead sparking in pain as she walks headfirst into a streetlight.

 

* * *

 

“Hi, beautiful!”

They’re walking back from dropping off Sana when a voice calls out across the street to them. Eva slows, turning to see a man leaning against the door to a club. He’s wearing an array of different colored glow sticks around his neck and wrists, his bare chest painted in pink and orange swirls.

“Not you, honey,” he says to Eva, jerking his chin instead in Isak’s direction. Isak sees him and stumbles, just barely catching himself as he does a double take.

“Let me paint you!” the guy calls, waving a handful of glow sticks through the air.

“Uh-” Isak stares at him for a moment, then turns and glances at Eva in disbelief. Eva raises her eyebrows, smirking. “I don’t-”

“Aw, don’t be shy!” He beckons with a finger, dancing a little as he moves towards them. Eva grins and catches Vilde’s eye as Isak turns a faint pink color, rendered speechless between them.

“Is this blacklight party?” Eva asks, nodding down at the paint on his chest. He winks and tosses her a glow stick. Across from her, Vilde tilts her head, and Eva nods once in confirmation before they both shove Isak forward.

“He’d love to!” Eva shouts, while Isak throws her a look of betrayal over his shoulder.

“The shirt stays on,” Isak says as he’s pulled across the street.

Eva’s been to a blacklight party once before, but that had been a shitty one thrown in Eskild’s apartment, with bad paint and even worse music. This party is nothing like that one.

The walls of the room are a deep, luminous blue, while people all around glow in neon, smeared in pink and green and orange paint. It makes everything seem a little otherworldly to her, slightly foreign and strange.

“Wow,” Vilde says, tilting her head back to look at the painted designs that twist up to the ceiling.

“You don’t need him, right?” the guy asks, pulling Isak away before either of them can respond.

“He’s so cool,” Vilde says. For a moment Eva thinks she means the stranger, but when she looks over she realizes Vilde is talking about Isak.

“Isak? _Cool?”_

Vilde doesn’t offer an explanation, just snatches the glow stick from her hand and beams.

“We need to match!” she says, pulling Eva to the other end of the room, where there are tables spilling over with paint.

She perches at the edge of one of the couches, a mess of color already splattered across the fabric, and looks up at Eva expectantly. Eva sits down on the table across from her, picking up a bottle of fluorescent pink and passing it over.

“You do it!” Vilde says, shaking her head and smiling. Eva freezes, her hand tightening on the bottle.

“To you?”

Vilde leans forward, offering her outstretched arm to Eva. Eva unscrews the lid of the bottle, glaring at her hands when her fingers shake and fumble with the cap. It falls to the ground by her feet, but Vilde either doesn’t notice or chooses not to comment.

“Okay,” Eva says, dipping her finger into the paint. “I’m not exactly an artist.”

“I don’t care,” Vilde replies, scooting forward on the couch. Eva reaches out, using her left hand to hold Vilde’s arm steady while she draws swirls across her skin. Their knees touch as Eva leans forward to move up her arm, and when she looks up Vilde is watching her.

“Is that okay?” she asks. Vilde nods, then sweeps her hair back, away from her chest.

“Here, too?” Vilde runs her fingers across her collarbones. Eva watches the movement while Vilde’s gaze seems to pierce right through her. She feels read, understood, but not judged, and realizes the gesture is an invitation.

She leans forward and presses her fingers just underneath Vilde’s shoulder, fascinated when Vilde’s eyes close at the feeling. Eva draws a series of sweeping lines across Vilde’s chest, following the lines of her collarbones down to the top of her shirt. Her breath catches when Vilde steadies herself with her hands on Eva’s thighs, her eyes still shut.

“It’s kind of cold,” Vilde whispers, her hands shifting higher.

Eva swears as her phone buzzes from in her pocket, the vibration surprising her so much she drops the bottle of paint.

“Sorry.”

Vilde shakes her head and draws back, sliding her hands slowly off of Eva’s legs.

“It’s Eskild,” Eva says, narrowing her eyes down at her phone. In that moment, she kind of wants to kill him.

“What do you want?”

_“Eva, guess who I found!?”_ Eskild shouts in her ear. Eva winces and pulls the phone away from her face, glancing up at Vilde as she does. Her expression is an odd one, an almost calculating set to her eyebrows. _“Our mystery friend!”_

There’s a prolonged _“hiiiiii!”_ in the distance, cheerful and drunk.

“Oh my god, Eva, you should meet her,” Eskild says, the volume of his voice fading in and out, “she’s, like, my style _icon.”_

“That’s awesome, Eskild.”

“Where are you guys?” Eskild asks. There’s a jarring clatter, like he dropped his phone, and then the muffled sound of laughter.

“Eskild, can you hear me?”

“Eskild can’t come to the phone right now,” comes the other voice, still laughing, “but if you leave your name and number-”

“Oh my _god_ you didn’t even help me!”

“Come on, you’re fine-”

“Eskild, is Noora there?” Eva yells into the receiver, hoping maybe she can talk to someone who isn’t completely incoherent.

“Noora went home, she can’t party with the big kids!” Eskild shouts back. In the background, Eva can hear who she can only guess is Chris begin to chant _“party! party! party!”_

“I’ll text you the address,” Eva replies.

“Where’s my boy?” Eskild demands. “Let me talk to him!”

“Isak’s become someone’s muse,” Eva rolls her eyes, smirking up at Vilde. Vilde scrunches her nose back, shaking her head. “He’s being painted like a french girl.”

_“Without me!?”_ Eskild screeches. A moment later, the call cuts out, and Eva stares down at her phone in confusion.

“I think he hung up on me,” she says, looking back up at Vilde.

“Seems like they like each other!”

“Dangerous,” Eva mutters, quickly texting Eskild their location before she slides her phone back into her pocket. She can feel Vilde’s eyes on her and tries to find an excuse not to look up, bending down to rescue the upturned bottle of paint.

“I want to dance with you,” Vilde says, her voice quiet as she knocks their knees together. Eva swallows and nods, only chancing a glance once Vilde has risen from the couch, brushing off the back of her skirt.

Vilde leads the way to the dance floor, and Eva feels jittery as she follows behind, a hand on Vilde’s shoulder so they don’t get separated. Vilde turns to face her once they reach the middle of the room, and Eva sees with a shock the trail her fingers made across her body, weaving up her arm and towards her neck. It hadn’t occurred to her when she was painting Vilde how intimate it would be, for her fingertips to be visible for everyone to see.

Eyeliner is smearing below Vilde’s eyes, and it mixes into the silver stars pasted onto her face. She’s captivating even messy and undone, and Eva wonders if there’s ever a time when Vilde isn’t beautiful. The neon lights reflect off the glitter on her cheeks, off the pink paint and her blonde hair, until her whole body seems to glow. Eva’s never met someone who radiates like Vilde, who draws her in and makes everything turn happy and warm. The feeling Eva gets when she’s drunk is the only thing that comes close, but her head feels clear and steady, with nothing clouding her thoughts. It’s a feeling she doesn’t want to lose. She wants to chase it and see if she can keep it, needs to know if it’s something she can feel permanently. Isak’s words return, faint in the back of her mind, warning her that she’s being careless and impulsive.

Vilde smiles, the lights turning violet around her, and Isak’s voice disappears.

Eva draws her forward, closing her eyes as their lips meet. Vilde makes a noise in surprise, a vibration against Eva’s mouth, before she reaches forward and kisses Eva back. The beat of the music moves like a pulse against her skin as Eva slides a hand up Vilde’s jaw, careful not to displace any of the glitter as her thumb presses against Vilde’s cheek. Vilde pushes up against her, still swaying to the music as her hands find Eva’s hips, asking her to keep moving.

“You’re a really bad dancer,” Vilde says, pulling away with bright eyes.

“I know.” Eva can’t help but smile, her joy spilling outward.

“Good kisser, though,” Vilde says, returning the smile before she pulls Eva back down. It’s sweet but severe all at once, a little like Vilde herself, and Eva lets her take the lead. She wants to know what Vilde likes, and wants Vilde to discover it for herself.

Eva’s not certain how many times the song changes before a voice cuts through and reaches them.

“Vilde!”

Eva stumbles as Vilde pushes her away, putting some distance between them as a girl in a silver snapback appears from the depths of the crowd.

“Chris, hi!”

“Oh my god, finally!” Chris shouts, bouncing as she pulls Vilde into a hug. “I’ve been trying to find you all night!”

“Me too!” Vilde says, keeping a hold of Chris’ hands as they jump to the music together. The reality of the situation hits Eva like a cold douse of water.

She’s a stranger. She met Vilde in a club bathroom, five hours ago. Vilde just came out yesterday, and not even because she was ready or because she wanted to. She did it, Eva suspects, because her shitty friends pressured her to. And now Eva is just another shitty person, forcing herself into Vilde’s life when she’s confused and vulnerable.

Eva turns on her heel, pushing her way through the mass of people as Vilde and Chris dance behind her.

She finds Isak standing near the bar, watching incredulously as Eskild pours a bottle of water over his head, the shirt he’s wearing becoming tight and transparent.

“Isak!” Eva shouts over the music, grabbing his shoulder. “Let’s go!”

“What about Vilde?” he asks, looking down at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“She’s fine, she’s with Chris!”

“But I thought-”

“Let’s _go,_ Isak!”

Isak scrutinizes her for a moment, his eyes searching, before he nods and follows her outside.

“Home?” he asks once the cold night air hits them. They turn towards the tram station and walk together in silence, the streets around them quiet and empty. It occurs to Eva that it’s not a usual occurrence- typically one or both of them go home with someone on a night out, and they don’t end up seeing each other until the next morning. Tonight, Eva is grateful for Isak’s company.

When they get on the tram, Eva slides down into her seat, her head falling against Isak’s shoulder. Isak lets her, refraining from his usual sarcastic remarks and instead just shifting lower to accommodate her.

“On a scale from one to ten,” Isak says, kicking the toe of her shoe, “how dead are you?”

Eva smiles, closing her eyes.

“Six,” Eva says, kicking his ankle in retaliation.

“Just six?” Isak asks, snorting. “I’m at least an eight.”

“I thought you said you weren’t drunk?”

Isak shrugs, not even protesting as he turns his head to look out the window.

“You didn’t get her number?” he asks, his voice quiet in the empty tram. Eva shakes her head against him, the fabric of his shirt moving against her cheek.

“Because of what I said?” He turns his head to look down at her, concern building in the lines between his eyebrows.

“What, now you feel guilty?” Eva asks, smiling and rolling her eyes. She pushes herself up off his shoulder, bending down to undo the clasps on her shoes. She hadn’t noticed how much her feet hurt until she sat down, but now her heels are aching.

“I don’t know,” Isak says, slouching further down into his chair. “You’re upset.”

“I’m just tired,” she says, peeling her first shoe off and letting it collapse on its side.

“You would’ve ended up regretting it.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Eva slides her other shoe off, kicking them both to the side before she turns to look at him.

“It always just falls apart, eventually,” he says, looking down at her apologetically.

“So, what, we should just give up while we’re ahead? Not even _try?”_

Isak shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she replies, slowly shaking her head as she considers him.

“Well, I think you’re wrong.”

Eva purses her lips, punching his shoulder lightly before she leans back down against it. “I can’t wait for some asshole to break your heart.”

Isak snorts. “Unlikely.”

 

* * *

 

Eva wakes up to her phone buzzing somewhere in the pile of blankets on her bed. She lies there for a moment, angry and tired and hungover, absolutely positive that she’s only been asleep for, at the most, thirty minutes.

“Who the _fuck,”_ she mutters, slapping her hand around her bedsheets until she hits the cold plastic of her phone case. She answers with her eyes still closed, going by muscle memory as she slides her thumb across the bottom of the screen.

“What do you want?” she asks, certain that since Isak is sleeping peacefully in his room, the person on the other end must be a drunk Eskild.

“Which floor are you on?”

It takes Eva a moment to register that the soft, light voice in her ear isn’t Eskild at all. She bolts upright in bed, pulling the phone away from her face to look down at the screen. The number listed isn’t one she has programmed, but she stares down at it like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

“Vilde?” she asks, throwing her blankets off and sliding out of bed.

“I’m outside,” Vilde says, “what floor are you?”

Eva stands in the middle of her room, running a hand through her hair in confusion as her brain catches up with the rest of her body. She turns and walks towards her window, drawing back the curtains and unclasping the lock.

When she leans forward and looks down onto the street three floors below, she sees Vilde standing on the sidewalk a little ways down the building. She’s pacing slowly, peering up at the windows with her phone held against her ear.

“Eva, are you there?”

“Turn around,” Eva says. Vilde spins on the spot and looks up, beaming when she sees Eva hanging against the windowsill.

“Stay there, okay?” Eva asks, retreating back into her room slowly, afraid that the moment she looks away, Vilde will be gone. She turns and stumbles for the door, not bothering with a jacket or shoes as she sprints down the hall and out onto the landing.

When she gets downstairs, Vilde is still staring up at her window, her phone held loosely up against her ear.

“Hi,” Eva says, smiling as she walks over. Vilde turns to face her, glancing down at her phone in confusion before she tucks it away.

“Hi,” she replies, walking the last few steps to meet Eva.

“How do you know where I live?”

Vilde bites her lip and reaches into her purse, sliding out a folded sheet of paper.

“I’m your reference, remember?” she hands the paper to Eva, rocking forward onto the balls of her feet. “I thought you’d want that back.”

“Oh, right,” Eva replies, trying to keep her disappointment out of her tone.

“You really should apply there,” Vilde says. “You’d be good at it.”

Eva nods. “Thanks,” she says. They fall into silence, and Eva feels Vilde watching her as she searches for words.

“Sorry for not-”

“I just wanted-”

Their speech overlaps then falters, and Eva laughs, looking up to see Vilde smiling at her.

“Sorry, you go,” Eva says.

“I just wanted to thank you.” Vilde rubs her arm, looking down. “Tonight meant a lot to me.”

“It- did?” Eva shakes her head, confused. Vilde lost her friend, got harassed and kicked out of a club, and was almost vomited on. Eva isn’t sure what she did to make Vilde’s night a good one.

“I know I’m being stupid,” Vilde says, her voice picking up speed as she runs her fingers over the ends of her hair, “but this week has just been really awful and I thought tonight was going to be awful, too, but you said you’d stay as long as I need and-” she pauses, her hands falling to her sides.

Eva stares, waiting for Vilde to continue. After a moment passes and Vilde says nothing, Eva realizes what she’s trying to say.

“You want me to stay?” Eva asks slowly, uncertain.

Vilde nods slowly.

“Wouldn’t you rather do your own thing? Make sure before you just-”

Vilde doesn’t wait for her to finish before she steps forward to kiss her. Eva blinks in surprise, jumping against Vilde’s hands before she stills and kisses her back. Vilde smiles against her mouth, pulling her closer as Eva’s hands find either side of her hips.

“I don’t think you’re being stupid, Vilde,” Eva says, pulling away.

“No?” Vilde asks, her lips moving against Eva’s cheek.

“No,” Eva replies, brushing a piece of hair away from Vilde’s face. When Vilde kisses her, it feels like a thank you.

Something falls against Eva’s face, first a gentle brush on her cheek that spreads until it seems to be surrounding her. She flinches and breaks away from Vilde, still holding onto her waist as she looks around. The street is empty, but floating all around them are tiny, colorful bits of paper. When she looks up, she sees Isak hanging out of her open window, looking wrecked and tired but smiling as he throws a handful of confetti over them.

“Happy Pride!” he calls down.

“Happy Pride,” Eva says.

**Author's Note:**

> tl;dr: they u-hauled


End file.
